


Starry, Starry Night

by MediumSizedEvil



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Everybody Hurts, F/M, Post-Casecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: Paint your palette blue and grayJake and Amy talk about art, and life, and everything in between.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Kudos: 23





	Starry, Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

> So how do you pronounce Vincent van Gogh? [Like pneumonia in a frog pond.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2YU87AqDcU)

  
“But does it spark joy?”

“Spark my ass,” Jake grumbled as he cleaned out his side of the closet.

“What's this?” Amy asked, grabbing a shopping bag from the back. She looked inside. “Oh...”

“Yeah, it's all the French stuff from the hospital. I just eh, put it away for now.”

Amy nodded. “You know, I thought it was really romantic though.” She gently stroked the red checkered table cloth.

“Too bad I ruined it.”

“You didn't, okay? We just needed to have that conversation sooner or later.” Amy looked at the picture of the Eiffel Tower. “Aww, I'd love to go to Paris one day.”

Jake smiled. “Then you'd better learn to hold your liquor.”

Amy unrolled a canvas. “And I really love this painting.”

“You do? I just picked the old standard, typical French painting.”

“Well,” she pondered, “I suppose it was painted in France...”

“Yeah well art is not my thing.”

Amy shook her head. “Anybody can understand art.” She held up the canvas in front of him. “So how does it make you feel?”

Jake took a step backwards. “Well eh, restless I guess? I think there's lots of stuff whirling around in his head, but he saw something beautiful and wanted to share it with the world.”

Amy nodded. “Yes, he painted it from the window of a mental hospital after he cut off his ear.”

“Ah, it's that fellow Van Go!” Jake exclaimed. “See, I know art.”

“Actually it's pronounced 'Vawn Choch'. Professor Schochteloo taught me.”

“Are you having a stroke?”

“No, that's his name. Although he asked us to call him Egbert.”

Jake frowned. “He...what? Egg-bird...?”

“Professor Egbert Schochteloo from Utrecht is a leading expert on De Hooch and Scheffer.”

“Now you're just fucking with me!”

“Okay, it's Vermeer and not Scheffer. They're not even from the same era, pfff!”

“Hilarious,” Jake agreed. “You know I love your beautiful brain, and your beautiful butt.” He showed her just how much. “But please stop speaking that garbage language.”

Amy shrugged. “Well, I like French better anyway.” She picked up the bread basket from the bag with a sigh. Suddenly she colored, and he immediately saw what she was seeing - a little crib for a little baby. She quickly put it down, as if it was burning her fingers.

He pulled her into a tight hug. “I'm so sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that.”

He shook his head. “I'm trying, Ames. I swear I am.”

“I know, it's just that...you can father kids until you're in your eighties, but every moment that passes lessens my chances of having a baby, a healthy baby. And once it's gone, it's gone. Then I can never have children of my own anymore. I know people make jokes about the biological clock, but it's a real thing, and it's scary as hell.”

He nodded. “Yeah, now that you put it like that...I'm just imagining it and it feels horrible, like having a ticking time bomb strapped to your chest.”

“Yes, it chokes me up sometimes so much I can't breathe.”

He hugged her tightly. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. And I don't just want kids, I want to have kids with you. But not until you're ready.”

“I want to be ready, I really do. But I'm just not ready yet. But try to see it from my perspective. I blamed myself when my father left, and I'd rather not have kids than hurt them that much. And I don't know if I can trust myself to be a good dad, or if it's part of me and I'm doomed to repeat it. That's what scares me most.”

She squeezed him tight. “I trust you, with all my heart.”

“Thanks. And I promise you I'm working on it with my therapist. You know what, I'm going to call him right now to schedule in some extra appointments.”

She smiled. “Yeah, except today is Sunday...”

He fondly kissed her ear. “First thing tomorrow.”

  


_Starry, starry night_  
_Paint you palette blue and gray_  
_Look out on a summer's day_  
_With eyes that know the darkness in my soul_

\- Vincent, Don McLean


End file.
